


put it out for good

by cicak



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, F/F, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Shitty Puns, force ex machina, return of the damerdong, screwball comedy, sex comedy, the force is just there to fill plot holes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicak/pseuds/cicak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Luke Skywalker is cockblocking everyone, Poe Dameron is the Battle Slut of the Republic, and screwball comedy comes to the galaxy far, far away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

On balance, things were going well in the months after the destruction of the Starkiller base, right up until the moment Luke Skywalker came back. In Poe’s opinion, he should have been happy, being up one apprentice in Rey who was definitely the most emotionally stable Jedi in history, but Luke was so aggressively at peace with being pulled off his sulking island to save the galaxy again everyone who came within a ten meter radius of him developed a splitting force-induced headache.

In Poe Dameron’s expert opinion, Luke Skywalker is not dealing with the death of his friend by the hand of his former apprentice in a healthy way. Normally that would be a facetious declaration, but everyone on D’Qar knows that Poe Dameron is really good at working through bad situations in an emotionally healthy and mature way, which is why he has a hand carved medal from his fellow pilots that proclaims him to be “Battle Slut of the Republic”. They’d even given him a recording they’d made of them singing incredibly blasphemous lyrics to the old hymn for his birthday. So he’s got this.

Or he would, if the headache would go away.

“Does he know that he’s doing this, your master?” Poe asks Rey later that afternoon, as she tries to relieve his headache through some arcane Jedi massage tricks that mostly involve her ruffling his hair with the force while she flicks through the latest edition of _Miss Corellia_ she had borrowed from Jess.

“He says it stops him falling to the dark side. Anger is a very destructive emotion. It’s almost as bad as lust in terms of falling.”

“I hate him” Poe says sincerely, wincing. “Jedi massage sucks, by the way. You’re on the other side of the room.”

Rey pushes a little harder with her force fingers, strong enough that she can feel something, something strange. There’s something percolating in his handsome brain, she can feel it.

“I mean it’s all very well that he’s not going to fall, but what if I fall to the dark side because he can’t work through his emotions in a healthy way? I’m the best pilot in the resistance.” He holds his hand up when Rey opens her mouth to protest “You aren’t in the resistance, I’m not having another argument about this again, anyway, I am crucial for morale! The General says I am invaluable to her! If I become evil, that would be a terrible gain for the dark side.”

Rey pats him with her force. “You have the force-sensitivity of a rock” she tilts her head at him and corrects herself, “a small rock. You have nowhere to fall, Poe Dameron, you are perfectly neutral, you absorb the lifeforce of the universe and it passes through you like an undigested bean. Anyway, sure you of all people can bear a headache for the greater good? You bear far more burdens than that any time there’s a full moon party.”

“You haven’t mentioned those to the General, right? What do you guys do together anyway? You spend a lot of time in her quarters since you got back.”

“Oh, you know. She teaches me how things can become more than their individual parts, mostly. A practical demonstration. She also thinks that I need a “positive influence” to counteract all the depressed Jedi influence that I get from Master Luke.”

Poe narrows his eyes. “Is that a sex thing?”

Rey laughs good naturedly at him. “No, Poe, It’s not a sex thing. I’m a Jedi. I’m sworn to stay away from the temptations of the flesh, which means no lust for Rey.”

Poe pouts at her “Didn’t the entire first republic fall because Luke’s father didn’t get laid enough? You’d think he’d learn from this. It’s not healthy to keep yourself all bottled up. You might sprain something important.”

Rey gives in and rolls her eyes. “I’m allowed to touch myself, Poe. It served me well up to now. In fact, better. There’s no sand here. Plus, pilots are walking pornographers. I don’t need to worry about getting sexually frustrated when you’re broadcasting all your ridiculous sexual shenanigans at each other. I hate to break it to you Poe, but Finn doesn’t bend that way.”

He blushes “There’s no way you can know that.”

“They didn’t remove any ribs when he got stabbed in the back." She snarks. "You know, it’s ironic, but he’s a lot more realistic when he thinks about you-” and then abruptly closes her mouth.

“Wait, what? He thinks about me?”

Rey keeps her eyes down in her magazine, but there's a smile playing around her lips. “Near constantly.” she admits. "Congratulations?"

Right then, as if they were in a comedy, Finn bursts into his rooms grinning like a maniac.

“Guys! Guys! Master Luke said he’d train me to be a Jedi! Isn’t that great news? Poe? Why are you crying? Is your headache still bad? Would you like a massage?”

* * *

There’s nothing for it, Poe thinks as he angrily puts on his dress uniform and finger combs his curls into what people have previously described as ‘the just fucked configuration’. He’s going to have to seduce Luke Skywalker. It’s the only solution.

They’re having a formal dinner to welcome back their long lost Jedi messiah, partly because they’re a military base that doesn’t have much to do at the moment, and partly because General Organa knows that her brother hates pomp and circumstance. She’d been busy that afternoon personally supervising the cobbled together band’s attempt to learn the Skywalker Suite in G.

(There have always been rumours that Luke Skywalker disappeared not just because everyone he had trained was brutally murdered, but also because he really hated being famous and having that overly maudlin piece of music played at him by every amateur orchestra in the galaxy.)

There are very few times when Poe Dameron would not gladly go on his knees for Leia Organa, and when she’s using her army to troll her brother is a time when he just wants to be delivered to her quarters and never leave.

Jess has joined Rey when he reappears. Jess and Rey are terrifying together in the best sort of way, and Jess is a lot more sanguine about the fact she’s unlikely to ever be able to get Rey to give into her baser instincts and fuck her blind, which is something Poe should aspire towards if he knows what’s good for him.

When he steps out of his closet they both break out their best wolf whistles, despite the fact the resistance formal uniform is just the hideous ground uniform with extra epaulettes. Despite that, Jess looks excellent in her dress greens, and while Rey would look good in anything, once the holonet gets a look at her slightly too large jedi robes it’s a given that they will be _the_ look on the spring catwalks.

“Is Finn meeting us there?” He asks them.

“Yeah, someone has to lend him a new suit, apparently his muscles are too big for the one he wore to Han’s memorial. Busted right out of it.” Jess replies, clapping her hands together. “Just ‘boom’, all the seams just gone.”

Poe grits his teeth, but it doesn’t stop the keen of yearning from escaping his traitorous vocal cords, and Rey bursts out laughing.

“Your crush is pathetic, Poe.” Jess scolds. “Just tell him. He definitely wants you back. He practically told me to tell you.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Rey says, grabbing Jess’ arm to pull herself up from where she had collapsed into Poe's scratchy regulation bedsheets laughing. “Master Luke is going to train Finn in the way of the Jedi. He’s probably already made him take a vow of chastity. It’s practically the first thing you do.”

“And that” Poe says, shutting the closet door and straightening his tie, “Is why I am going to seduce Luke Skywalker, show him that sex isn’t the path to the dark side, and then once he has realised that I am right, I will marry Finn and sell the rights to the holonovel to fund our honeymoon to somewhere very far away from this war. It is a foolproof plan that has never failed before.”

Jess steps up to brush some stray pieces of lint off his jacket. She looks very serious. “Poe, darling, sweetheart, while even I admit that the Damerdong has never let you or the resistance down, this is _Luke Skywalker_. He’s the most famous virgin in the galaxy.”

“I know, Jess, Rey, and that is why I’m going to need your help. Together, we can reform the Jedi, all get laid, and restore balance to the force.”

“This is by far the worst idea you have ever had” Jess quips. “And you’ve had a lot.”

“And that, my friend, is why it’s going to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have listened to a lot of [You Must Remember This](http://www.youmustrememberthispodcast.com/) in the last few days, which reminded me that I had this stupid idea about a screwball comedy and because I was having a week where the rest of my writing had completely failed me and I was feeling crummy. I wrote this to cheer myself up more than anything. If it cheered you up as well please let me know!
> 
> If you don't know the Battle Hymn of the Republic, you probably just don't know what its called. [Have a listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wpZ3jPMM5Ac). 
> 
> Come hang out with me at [cicaklah.tumblr.com](http://cicaklah.tumblr.com) if you know what's good for you.


	2. Chapter 2

For all Jess quips about the Damerdong having a mind of its own, she is a galaxy class strategist, and once Rey and Finn drifted off like the beautiful wisps of pure light they are to play at beating the shit out of each other with neon tubes, she pulls out her trusty strategy board, ties her hair up, and sets to actually plot out what they are going to do about this.

“I don’t think you can battle slut your way through this” she says. “It works on people who either have a thing for “heroes”” she does the air quotes and rolls her eyes, “and it works for people who already want you to suck them off in a hangar, but unless you’re absolutely sure, I think you should maybe approach this as an adult instead of the eternally sprung adolescent you turn into every time you go to seduce someone.”

Poe frowns. “I am your commanding officer, Pava, maybe we could do this with a bit more respect?”

“Sorry sir, I mean you are wise and I respect you greatly, but, with great respect, you definitely buy your own battle slut press. I just think, as your second in command, and as someone who also has a lot to potentially gain from you completing this mission, I just think that perhaps your usual method may backfire here.”

Then she sketches out a beautifully orchestrated plan off the top of her head that once she multiplies back the probabilities gives him a 66% chance of seducing Luke Skywalker and there being a spring wedding, and a 86% chance of him and Finn being married before the summer is out.

If it wasn’t so hideously inappropriate Poe would show this plan to General Organa, because Jess is absolutely wasted as a cannon fodder flygirl, she should be nicely hidden in the situation room sipping cocktails like the strategic genius she is.

He tries not to be disappointed at the number of steps. Its fine, its not like Poe _really_ expected to just walk up to Luke Skywalker, bite his lip at him extra sluttily, and then bang him manfully until the universe fell back into its rightful place. It wouldn’t be much of a story to sell if Poe was some kind of magical space sex wizard or a hot and fiery Yavin stereotype no one could resist (though he is sure that it will be one of those guys playing him). No matter what Jess thinks he thinks of himself, Poe knows he isn’t the greatest lover in the resistance. He can’t even say he tries that hard to make up for it. He’s pretty good though, you know, as a baseline, and he _has_ slept with the greatest lover in the resistance, so he can say he learned from the best. He still gets distracted every time he sees certain types of pastry. He can only aspire to that level of greatness.

The gala dinner honouring Luke Skywalker was the most exciting thing that had happened on base that didn’t involve death or double rations in months. And double rations are a big deal. Poe went to go scope out the hall, realising that he did actually have a job to do, and that job was to supervise other people doing the actual work, because one of the perks of management is finally getting other people to do scut work for a change. 

He perched on the stage and watched some of the junior pilots hang the pennants of the new republic from the rafters, and then, when it seemed like everyone was looking busy to avoid his austere managerial glare, he buried himself in his holopad to do some important research. The Holonet was very forthcoming when he idly asked it for ‘“Luke Skywalker” pictures -trash -beard’, and he was engrossed in examining the supreme twinkiness of his target when there was a pointed cough from somewhere by his elbow.

“I hope you’re looking at those pictures for noble reasons, Commander”, snarks General Organa, “My brother will be able to tell when you meet him if your thoughts are impure.”

“Oh, only the most noble reason, Sir”, Poe lies. “Idle curiosity, nothing more. My men are doing such a good job that I was bored you see, supervising them. I wanted to see if the rumours were true.”

Leia raises an eyebrow and gestures over his shoulder, where Iolo and Matrie have got tangled in the largest pennant. They seem pretty secure, but he is surprised that he hadn’t noticed the screaming before now.

“I think it’s important they learn to solve their own problems?” He hedges, turning back to her.

There’s a beeping as one of the forklift droids backs into place, guided by BB-8, who grumbles in her scratchy whistle that she really has to do everything around here. 

“See! I’ve got it General. Nothing to see here.” 

He thinks there’s something in her frown that is her trying not to laugh, but she leaves him alone anyway, muttering something about tracking down a third viola player.

Feeling guilty, Poe goes and pointedly asks all the work teams whether he can help, do anything at all, it’s no problem, and so half an hour later he is free of all responsibilities and so retires to the hangar to work on his X-Wing. He leaves BB-8 to supervise, and she whistles sarcastically at him as he leaves. 

Its rare that he gets the time to really get down and dirty with his x-wing. He strips down to his undershirt, and then looks at himself in the mirror behind the hydrospanners, and strips off his formal trousers, hanging them neatly on the rear spoiler alongside his dress jacket. There is no one in the hangar, and it is the height of the D’Qar summer, and so if he wants to repair his ship in his skivvies well, no better time. While the rest of the base is climate controlled, the open nature of the hangar means that it really builds up a lot of heat, and today is no different. In the open sunshine the heat radiates off the runway like a summer barbeque, thick rolls of heat mirage lines under a perfect blue sky.

Poe extracts all the fluids from his ship (and only gets slightly sprayed), greases all the joints with the thick black aviation lube he prefers, and even repaints all her beauty marks and smoothes out her minute chips and dents, little cosmetic things that he always has to put off because he just doesn’t have the time to spend four hours on his ship anymore. 

His holopad’s alarm code chirps at him that it is the last possible time he can safely get showered and cleaned up before reporting to the gala, so he sighs to himself, and begins to disengage, making a note to give BB-8 time to do her long diagnostic while he’s nursing his inevitable hangover tomorrow.

The alarm, which has been beeping for several minutes now, suddenly stops. When Poe looks down, there’s a mysterious man in some winter weight robes prodding at the screen. He’s even wearing gloves. The man must be dying.

The mystery man looks up, and beneath the beard and the wear of thirty years, Poe instantly recognises the eternal twinkiness of Luke Skywalker. The blue eyes are even more piercing in person.

He had a plan, but there’s something in the way Skywalker looks at him that makes Poe think that perhaps there’d be something in letting his inner battle slut have a go at this.

He slides down the ladder, a move so smooth he knows this is right, as he’s only personally been able to do it without getting caught on a rung twice before. 

He dries his hands on a rag, and holds out his hand, biting his lip and looking up through his eyelashes - just a bit, Skywalker isn’t that much taller than him, but it’s enough to get the effect.

“Master Skywalker, it is a _pleasure_ ” he croons. “Commander Poe Dameron, black leader, at your service”.

Skywalker doesn’t look impressed, and looks at Poe’s oil stained hand like it might hurt him.

Poe pulls it back, wiping it against his chest, making sure to catch the nipple. “So sorry, you’re a pilot, you know how it is. Stuff gets everywhere, will take forever to get it off. Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like a tour? I have to go get ready but I’m sure if the guest of honour is missing as well I won’t get into _too_ much trouble with the General if I’m a few minutes late.” He pauses for effect, and looks Skywalker up and down. "Or quite a few minutes, if you want the _full_ tour."

There's a moment when Poe thinks that yes, he was right, Jess was wrong, this totally worked, and then Skywalker's face shutters down completely. “Er, no, that’s okay” Skywalker says, backing away. “I was just looking around. It really is quite warm in here. I should get to the ball. Can’t keep my sister, Leia, your General, waiting...” and then with a wave of his gloved hand, he nearly runs out of the hangar like a scared animal. 

After Skywalker leaves, Poe catches his reflection in the hydrospanner mirror. His undershirt is nearly translucent with sweat, apart from where it is streaked with black. His skivvies are blessedly still opaque, but are riding down low on his hips and look about ready to fall off. He looks like the debauched fantasy of a spaceship mechanic who somehow is changing oil in his underwear, an image that could have been wholesome softcore pinup if not for the generous spattering of milky white hydraulic fluid in his hair and against the skin of his face and neck, expertly contrasted more than usual by his summer tan lines. 

Oh and that smell? The one of an animal in heat that’s got caught in a hot engine? Its him.

Fuck. Jess is going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jess: Poe no  
> Poe: POE YES
> 
> Come hang out with me at [cicaklah.tumblr.com](http://cicaklah.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> The Screwball Comedy is a very strict story form: a comedy film — usually in black and white, although some were made in color — in which an uptight, repressed, or otherwise stiff character gets broken out of his or her shell by being romantically pursued by a Cloudcuckoolander (or a similar character type). It is characterized by fast-paced repartee, farcical situations, escapist themes, and plot lines involving courtship and marriage and showing the struggle between economic classes. (from TV Tropes)


End file.
